MicroHorror

Acrid mold wetted by mud and persistent rain leaked in at the seams of the white canvas tent. Dr. Flender wrinkled his whiskered face at the stink and listened to static on loose headphones. Homeless ants crawled over the folding table in a line across a worn star pattern. “I only hear static,” he mumbled to the Sheriff. “I can’t tell what the growling is. It’s too soft against the noise.”

Dr. Flender was Chief Veterinarian from the Denver Zoo. He’d been flown in special to identify some wild animal. He hadn’t been told five children had been trapped behind a cave-in. The Sheriff surprised him with that news. Trapped for two days. Drillers had only that morning bored a hole for air and a microphone drop.

The Sheriff squelched a walkie-talkie. “Any luck with that connection yet?”

A reply returned immediately, “Almost. There, got it.”

The Sheriff pointed at Dr. Flender with his walkie-talkie’s antenna. The Sheriff appeared worn with worry and fatigue. He clearly hadn’t shaved in days. “Crap,” he said. “One delay after another. Try listening again.”

A great bullfrog roll of thunder outside rattled the tent. Dr. Flender shifted on the slick nylon folding chair. Again he eased the damp earphone over his head. This time the growl was clear despite the rain. “You say there’s children down there?”

The Sheriff nodded.

“The growling’s not a dog. A dog doesn’t sound like that.”

The Sheriff frowned. “We need to know what’s down there before we let the parents in.”

Dr. Flender concentrated on the sound. He felt a drop of cold water hit the back of his head. “Not a wolf either,” he said. “Not canine at all.” He wiped the back of his head with his coat sleeve.

“A bear maybe? There’s bears around here. Or were in the summer. Grizzlies.”

“No. Wait.” Another wrenching bellow of thunder caused Dr. Flender to press the earphones harder to his head. “No, not a bear. Not a cat, not like a cougar either.”

The Sheriff slipped on the other pair of earphones. He listened for a minute then asked, “What’s that crunching?”

Dr. Flender pressed the earphones tight again with his hands and listened hard. “Bones cracking. Whatever animal is down there, it has powerful jaws.”

The Sheriff looked unhappy. Then they both heard a tack tack like a stone hitting stone. Then the cracking of bone again. And then the same tack tack, stone against stone.

Then they both distinctly heard, “Ow!”

The growling was replaced by, “Ouch. My finger. My finger.”

Dr. Flender looked at the Sheriff and saw a man with slumped shoulders. Dr. Flender said, “I think I’m done here.” He tried not to sound sarcastic. He took his earphones off. He didn’t like what he’d heard. Not at all. The growling, now that he thought about it, reminded him of an ape’s growl.

The Sheriff took off his headphones. “One kid’s alive, anyway.”

“What are you going to tell the parents? That one kid might have eaten the others?”

“I don’t know.” The Sheriff looked at him. The Sheriff shook his head sadly. “I just don’t know.”